How failing forward can keep us stuck
Fail forward.
Don’t look back.
Don’t cry over spilled milk.
What do all these sayings have in common?
They suggest that we shouldn’t dwell on failures or mistakes. They advise, between the lines, that moving on quickly after a crisis is the expected, socially acceptable and resilient thing to do.
Dick Schwartz PhD, founder of Internal Family Systems (IFS) shared a thought at last year's Annual Boston International Trauma Conference that has stayed with me ever since:
“We live in a ‘don’t look back culture’ which tells us to move on quickly after a crisis and get back to normal. This culture can lead to greater fragmentation, a state where parts of us which needed more time or support to come to terms with that experience feel abandoned. This adds insult to injury.”
The first part of what Dick Schwartz said might feel familiar.
Most of us have experienced how our culture nudges, sometimes pushes us toward quick recovery.
There’s an expectation that we should either not stumble in the first place or at least regain balance quickly. Sometimes we push ourselves to bounce back too fast; partly to meet the cultural norm, and partly because it means we can leave the uncomfortable feelings that come with struggle behind us. Whether that’s a vague sense of discomfort, or whether we have more specific experiences like insecurity, self-doubt, sometimes shame; it’s tempting to disconnect from these feelings or deny them.
This pattern of quick recovery is often mistaken for resilience, for a sign of strength or mental toughness. Staying with the fallout of a painful experience might be seen as weakness, failing to adjust, or a self-indulgent over-reaction.
The second part is really important though: that this culture contributes to greater fragmentation in all of us.
This is a long-term consequence of brushing struggle and pain aside that gets easily overlooked, especially when the event in question looks innocent on the surface or falls into the category of micro trauma.
Fragmentation doesn’t describe the fact of having parts; we all have them, it’s a normal aspect of being human. It describes a situation where we knowingly or unknowingly, don’t acknowledge all parts.
This lack of acknowledgment results in some parts feeling abandoned, not seen or heard, misunderstood or not taken care of. Therefore, and with the best intentions of protecting us from the unprocessed pain, parts can take on extreme feelings or beliefs and develop strategies that ultimately get in the way of living.
With greater fragmentation our sense of self gets murky.
Instead of being guided by a solid set of values and beliefs we end up with abandoned and protective parts which interfere with how we'd like to live, work and connect with others.
They do this with good intentions as Dick Schwartz explains throughout his work. If we fail to acknowledge these misfiring protective strategies our instinct is to disconnect from these parts; we abandon, dismiss or ignore them further.
Have you ever been advised to ignore your inner critic or shush the voice that says you’re an imposter? Have you ever been told that anger doesn’t suit you, that you’re over-sensitive or that your emotions don’t belong at work?
These are all attempts to push parts that are experienced as interfering or inconvenient back into the box.
Not being affected by a crisis, or pretending to, has never been a sign of strength or resilience. It's a sign of denial (often a coping strategy for trauma) or at the very least a blind spot. And it comes back to bite us. The protective parts deploy their strategies in increasingly disruptive ways and more frequently.
If you find it difficult to move forward after a painful experience, don’t be hard on yourself.
If you find that this experience has changed you and going ‘back to normal’ is no longer an option because that version of you doesn’t exist anymore, know that shifts in your identity and how you see yourself often occur after or alongside significant life events. And with that may come changes in your relationships which can impact romantic relationships, friendships or how you relate to family members.
A supportive and deep reflective practice can help us monitor our inner experience of crisis, struggle or failure.
It gives us permission to stay with the experience and get curious about it. We can learn to notice and get to know our parts and spot our emotional or behavioural patterns when certain parts start running the show. We can begin to understand the underlying fear or lack of safety a part experiences. In this reflective exploration, we can lead a purposeful internal dialogue as a basis for integration and good, healthy self-leadership.
Trauma-informed coaching can also be an effective way to support yourself during and after challenging times. You can explore different parts in the safe and supported setting of coaching and develop a deep understanding of the protective strategies that are playing out. Once we understand and befriend our parts, even the ones that seem to get in the way, we find that these ‘obstinate’ parts are indeed very open to an upgrade, to a promotion or using their ‘transferable’ skills elsewhere; they want to play a new role in our internal system as long as they are assured that their protection is no longer required.
Without this processing, sensemaking and integrating we’re setting the scene for our parts acting out again as soon as we find ourselves in a similar situation.
I hope this post also highlights how important it is to identify the role of culture and systems.
In our culture of hyper-individualisation, we’re quick to hold the individual responsible for any positive change or self-improvement; whether that’s strengthening resilience, building self-compassion, or integrating our abandoned parts. And while these are important skills, we must acknowledge the environment that shaped us and continues to shape us.
We need to be more aware of the language we use and how it shapes our belief of what it means to navigate life with competence and resilience.
Concepts like ‘Fail forward’ or ‘Fail fast, fail often’ have quite possibly been created with good intentions: to make failing more socially acceptable and highlight failures as learning opportunities.
But these phrases suggests that we shouldn’t linger or dwell. We should quickly learn what’s there to learn and move on. This speedy action may be appropriate when we’re trying to work out why substandard products are dropping off the assembly line or when prototyping a new idea.
But grappling with challenging life events, trauma or loss needs time. Not giving ourselves permission to take the time we need will keep us stuck in unhelpful patterns.